


NYE

by huffpuffmcguff



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU - Laura is a bouncer, F/F, New Year's Kiss, New Years Eve, based on Elise's NYE tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffpuffmcguff/pseuds/huffpuffmcguff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura is a bouncer at a college bar and Carmilla is a regular patron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	NYE

**Author's Note:**

> (is Silas in Austria? is it in Canada? what's the drinking age in Canada? is there even a drinking age in Austria? these are all questions i did not consider prior to writing this fic because I'm American and therefore I don't think about these things and assume everyone has had the same world experience as me. Not proud of my thoughtlessness, but that's the reason for this probably-inaccurate-to-the-canon-setting NYE bouncer!Laura fic. I hope no one will protest.)
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=2qthmv9)  
> 

Laura’s long work-days are about to get a little longer, because she just got a job.

As a bouncer, at a popular bar just off Silas’ campus.

Okay, so maybe it’s not her first choice for a job. She’d probably be a little happier in some sort of coffee shop/bakery combo, or working in a library, or something a little… _quieter_. But, her new job’s hours won't compete with her class schedule at all, and it pays pretty well for what it is. Not to mention finding a part-time job in Silas that isn’t plagued by something supernatural is hard enough, and at least as a bouncer her biggest threats are of the human variety.

Of course, bar bouncers are typically male-held positions, but sooner or later the owner found out that the prior bouncer, Will, was letting in his underage Zeta brothers without checking their IDs. So, when the owner saw Laura’s application, he was intrigued - especially since, as a journalism major, she holds a pretty strong moral compass, so the chances of her letting any underage kids or fake IDs into the bar were slim. Once she proved that she had the muscle for it through a brief and only slightly injurious Krav Maga demonstration, he hired her on the spot.

 

* * *

 

It’s Laura’s third night working the door, and so far she’s found it’s not so challenging. Besides the job of taming belligerent freshmen, it's actually pretty easy. As streams of people approach the door, she simply checks the birth years and expiration years on IDs. She does her best to be discerning, and politely rejects IDs that she doesn’t trust. Usually, those she rejects just shrug and move on to find another bar that might be a little more lenient.

Until this one girl goes absolutely breezing past her.

“Hey!” Laura yells, and manages to grab the girl’s wrist before she has disappeared into the bar. The girl spins to face her.

Laura just blinks for a second, because holy shit, this girl is gorgeous.

“Need something, cutie?” She asks. She smirks and Laura’s knees have suddenly, inexplicably, become gelatinous.

“Um, y-your ID, please? I mean-” Laura stutters, then she clears her throat and lowers it authoritatively, “ID?"

“Oh, y’know…” The girl makes a show of checking all of her pockets (which she has a lot of, between her leather pants and her leather jacket), “I must have forgotten it back at my apartment. But I’m definitely not underage, cupcake, I promise.” She flashes a smile and a wink and twists back to enter the bar, but Laura catches her wrist again.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you in without an ID,” she says, and the girl pouts, which is cute, but Laura remains committed and _will not be distracted_.

“Where's Will? He always let me in.” The girl huffs, and she sounds a little angry, or annoyed, or both.

“The guy who worked here before? He got fired last week.”

“What for? ”

"For letting people in underage without checking IDs, which is why I don’t really want to test my luck on my third night on the job.” Laura says, and the girl just rolls her eyes. "Look, I’m sorry, just, bring an ID next time, okay?"

“Yeah, whatever.” And then the girl is gone, down the street in the shadows between streetlamps.

 

* * *

 

It’s a few nights later that Laura has a run-in with this girl again, and she almost misses her as she tries to slip into the bar while Laura is arguing with her friend Kirsch, a fraternity brother to Will who is a little upset that his favorite bar is no longer admitting underage Zetas.

“ _Don’t even try_.” She calls at the girl’s back, and the girl stops and pivots with a guilty grin.

“Sorry, cupcake, thought I could get through that time."

Laura just raises an eyebrow.

“But, don’t worry,” the girl says defensively, and fishes for a small plastic card, which she holds out to Laura, “I brought an ID this time, just for you."

“Elizabeth Anne Spielsdorf… this photo looks literally nothing like you. Is that even your name?"

“No,” the girl smiles mischievously, “Why, do you _wanna_ know my name?"

“I want to know what made you think this ID that’s not even yours would convince me to let you into this bar."

The girl shrugs and rolls her eyes ( _again_ \- and Laura can’t help but notice how, even though they’re deeply dark, there’s a glint to them that’s like, crazy captivating), “Well, you said to bring an ID, and I didn’t have time to go get one of my own, you know how much of a pain that is."

“It needs to be _your_ ID.” Laura says, as assertively as she can, but it’s hard, because now the girl looks supremely disappointed and annoyed, and somehow gorgeous, and Laura wishes she could just let her in but she can't compromise her moral code like that.

“What if I told you that I don’t _have_ an ID because I’m a 334 year old undead vampire, and I’ve also _never_ faced such oppression by a drinking age law in all my centuries until your tenure as bouncer at this very bar?” The girl challenges, and now it’s Laura’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, right. Look, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to do my job. If you can’t prove to me through some sort of legal document that you are of age to drink here, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” But Laura doesn’t really want her to go.

 

* * *

 

It’s the week after midterms, so the bars this week are packed. Laura’s job therefore is a little tougher - sometimes people move almost too fast in and out for her to keep up, and when she looks back into the bar behind her all she sees is a swarm of bodies. Though it’s getting colder, she’s glad she's outside the bar, rather than in.

It’s been a few weeks since Laura has seen her last, and though she doesn’t notice her in the crowd waiting in line to get into the bar, suddenly the girl is there, right in front of her, holding up a plastic card that actually has her own photo on it.

“Wow, finally!” Laura calls over the crowd, taking the shiny plastic card from the girl and marveling at it dramatically. Then she looks at her suspiciously, “It’s not fake, is it?"

“No,” the girl huffs, “I stood in line _forever_ just to get this made. And I mean that. Forever is a literal thing for me."

“Relax, I’m just kidding,” Laura says, and hands the ID back. “Enjoy your night, Carmilla Karnstein."

The girl purses her lips into not-quite-a-smile and ducks into the bar.

Laura can't fight a grin herself, but she can’t revel in their interaction for long, because she has a job to do and shoving freshman to subdue. Nonetheless, with every ID she looks at, she repeats and memorizes the girl's information. _Carmilla Karnstein. 22 years old. 5’4’’. Brown eyes. Organ donor._

But then, only moments later, Carmilla is back, with a drink in her hand.

“Leaving already?” Laura asks.

“Of course not, cupcake. Just got here.” Carmilla says, as she perches on a barstool that Laura hadn’t noticed she’d dragged out with her.

“Did you take that from the bar?"

“No, I carry barstools around all the time in case I see a pretty girl I want to talk to.”

Laura blushes at that. “You can’t just take a barstool."

“I’ll give it back,” Carmilla reassures her. “Besides, nobody in there is really sitting down.” Laura looks into the bar and indeed, the bar is full shoulder-to-shoulder of sweaty, dancing bodies. She decides the barstool isn’t worth fighting over.

“So, you’ve finally gotten into this bar, and instead of actually being in there, you’re going to sit out here?” Laura asks.

“Thought you could use some company, creampuff.” Carmilla’s eyes flash playfully as she sips at her drink.

“It’s Laura.” 

Carmilla nods and pulls a book from her bag.

Laura doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t. She checks IDs and Carmilla sits next to her, and it’s somehow so comfortable and not weird at all, and she has no idea why.

 

* * *

 

It becomes a pretty regular thing: Carmilla comes to the bar, gets a drink, and sits beside Laura as she works the door, periodically disappearing back inside to get a refill. She always brings a book, but on slower nights Laura actually has time to talk to Carmilla and she finds that with each new thing she learns she likes this girl even more. Like, a lot more.

She learns that Carmilla actually wasn’t kidding about being 334 years old. Laura’s a little embarrassed for being so adamant about carding a centuries-old vampire, but she justifies that she was just doing her job, and Carmilla just laughs and says she knows.

She learns that Carmilla doesn’t actually love the bar scene, it’s just that there’s not much else better to do. Hence, she’d prefer to sit outside and talk to Laura, rather than actually suffer through the shoving elbows and Zeta bros' advances.

She learns that Carmilla reads constantly, everything she can get her hands on, but mostly philosophy books, since that's her major, and she saw the evolution of different schools of thought firsthand. Laura has to take one philosophy course for a core credit, and Carmilla says she’ll help her.

Laura is starting to look forward to her job every day, and Carmilla is no small part in that.

Something about the way Carmilla looks away from her and down the dark streets as she’s talking makes Laura feel like she could talk to her forever, that she would never run out of things to say, opinions to share, stories to tell. And yet, Carmilla won’t talk forever. She always clams up after a while, and that's when Laura's most entranced.

It’s also something in the way Carmilla’s eyes shine when she _does_ look at Laura that makes her feel like there’s words that could and should be said that could lead her into some realm of understanding the mystery of who Carmilla is. If she could only get through some sort of semantic barrier, she could really unlock something in this girl.

Not to mention, there’s something in the cut of Carmilla’s jaw, the way her hair falls on her shoulders, the way she balances on the bar stool with a book in one hand and a drink in the other, that makes Laura think there might not actually be a girl in the world who’s more beautiful than her.

Whatever it is, when Laura puts it all together, it all feels suspiciously like love, or at least the beginnings of. But she’s not going to be the one to say it.

 

* * *

 

Laura has to work on New Years Eve.

On paper, New Years Eve shouldn’t be a huge holiday in a college town. Classes aren’t supposed to start again until the 5th, but college kids tend to get antsy under their parents' roofs so many of them had returned to Silas just a few days after Christmas. As a result the bars are packed, and at 10:30 at night many of them are already three sheets to the wind. They probably won’t even remember ringing in the New Year.

Carmilla appears, as usual (she doesn’t even have to show Laura her ID anymore, go figure), and she pulls her bar stool up to Laura’s side.

“Hey Carm! Sorry, it’s a pretty busy night tonight. Can’t really talk.” Laura says, barely looking up as she checks IDs on the steady stream of students coming into the bar.

“No problem, cupcake.” Carmilla says, holding up her latest book and settling onto the stool.

About an hour later, the crowd gets almost unbearable. Everyone is trying to pile into any bar that will take them so they can get a drink in time for the countdown. As it gets closer to midnight, they become more and more riotous.

This, apparently, is when Carmilla decides it’s a good time to strike up a conversation.

“It’s almost New Years,” Carmilla says.

“Yeah, exciting,” Laura says, distractedly. It’s not rude, but she’s definitely not totally present.

“I mean, it’s really just another year in the books for me,” Carmilla shrugs.

“Oh,” Laura doesn’t look up, but her voice is sympathetic,”I guess I it would be- Hey!” Laura yells at a boy who tried to slip past her, “No way is that ID gonna work, it says you’re 37 years old. Try somewhere else. Go, scram!"

“I can't get excited about the passage of time anymore,” Carmilla says, "I've been around so long - time passes all too quickly, but all too slowly at the same time. Years run together.' Laura nods, but she’s so busy she can’t even respond.

“I really like tradition though,” Carmilla continues, “Like, the New Years kiss tradition. I think it really starts the year off right.” Carmilla hardly ever rambles like this, but Laura can barely hear it because apparently it’s 11:59 and the countdown has started.

The crowd is essentially ungovernable at this point, and Laura forces them back. “One at a time!” She shouts, but it’s pretty much useless. Carmilla watches, impressed at how well Laura is doing under pressure. The new year creeps closer and closer.

 _30! 29! 28!_...

Carmilla stands and puts her book down on the barstool. She takes a few long drinks from her cup, and puts that down too, then steps forward to stand right behind Laura.

“Do you have a New Years kiss for tonight, cutie?” She says loudly into Laura’s ear.

 _18! 17! 16!_...

Laura’s brow furrows in confusion. “Well no, I’m on the job, so- wait!” She double-checks an ID, then waves the person on. "Nevermind, you're good. Go ahead."

 _12! 11! 10!_...

Laura is aware of Carmilla's presence as she stands behind her, but at this point she's too busy to divert her attention from the task at hand. People are rushing in right and left, and she's sure she's made some mistakes by now. She stops one person whose ID looks taped, and inspects it closely.

_5! 4! 3!_... 

Carmilla steps in front of Laura, plucking the potentially-taped ID from her fingers and handing it back to its owner. “Go on in, buddy, happy new year.” She says, then spins to press her lips to Laura’s just in time.

 _ZERO! HAPPY NEW YEAR!_  

Several people may have slipped into the bar after that - Laura has no way of knowing. She just melts into Carmilla and all she can hear is fireworks and those annoying unfurl-y blower things and some sort of house-music version of Auld Lang Syne.

When she resurfaces she’s gasping for air and clutching Carmilla’s arms, and Carmilla laughs and kisses her forehead once before stepping back. Laura gapes at Carmilla, who smiles coyly as she sits back on her barstool and picks up her book.

“Happy new year, cupcake. Now you should probably get back to work."

**Author's Note:**

> three days after posting this fic (aka after everyone has already seen it) i realized that carmilla would never be so dumb as to put herself on the grid by getting a real ID. oh well, i did it for the AU


End file.
